


Śaktiviṣaya

by avani



Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11950803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avani/pseuds/avani
Summary: Seven things that never happened to Amarendra Baahubali.





	Śaktiviṣaya

**1.**

"How," asks Uday with what seems to be real confusion, "can you have two mothers?" 

Baahubali opens his mouth to answer, and finds he has none to offer. Uday might as well have asked why he had two eyes, or two hands: having both a Mother and a Sivagami-ma is a simple fact of his life and therefore unquestionable. 

It doesn't stop him from asking Mother that night when she comes to put him to bed. She pauses in the act of kissing his forehead and straightens, frowning. 

"Why shouldn't you?" she declares. "You are the Crown Prince of Mahishmati and its future King. Why shouldn't you have two of everything if you please?" 

Except that can't be true. He might have two mothers, but he has only one Bhalla and one Uncle and no father at all, except the phantom he's constructed from Mother's stories. If he had everything he pleased, surely that would not be the case. The illogic leads him to seek out Sivagami-ma despite the lateness of the hour. As he fears, she is still at work, scrolls unrolled before her on her table and lamps lit low; but she smiles to see him and he dares approach. 

Sivagami-ma's answer is, of course, far more prosaic. "Your mother was very ill when you were born," she explains, "so ill it was all she could do to come with me and declare your right as your father's heir. She couldn't make milk for you; I could. No more than that." 

But even that is unsatisfactory. Baahubali knows of milk-mothers and fostering, but that falls short of what Sivagami-ma means to him: the warmth and wisdom to soften Mother's haughtiness and high-handedness; just as Mother provides patience and pride in his actions that Sivagami-ma cannot always allow him. 

In the end, it's grizzled old Uncle who has the last word. "My Baahu," he murmurs fondly, "you deserve so much love it takes both your mothers to provide it." 

Which, Baahubali decides contentedly, is as close to being right as anything else could be. 

**2.**

"Bhalla!" calls Baahu for what must be the thousandth time. "Hurry up, won't you!" 

His impatience is only to be expected: it's Market Day, the best day of the month. Every other day, Baahu knows, it is his duty to stay close to home, to mind Mother and Uncle's every command, to avoid strangers: but on Market Day, and Market Day alone, he and Bhalla are sent to buy food and supplies. 

In the village, there are far more faces to be found than only Mother's and Uncle's, familiar and fond though they are. There are tastes far more tantalizing than those of Uncle's admittedly bland cooking, tongues with more liquid rhythms than Mother's precise accents, traders with stories unlike any Baahu has heard before. It is, he thinks, the most wonderful place in the world. His one regret is that Uncle and Mother cannot join him and Bhalla--but, as Mother says, they have faces that are far too easily recognized. Baahu and Bhalla are unknown, and therefore safe, and therefore free to enjoy the delights of the market--or at least they would be if Bhalla were ready on time for once. 

"Bhalla!" 

"Enough, enough." His brother emerges at last, smoothing down his tunic with more care than a visit they make every month deserves. It's only from small details like this that Baahu can tell that Bhalla enjoys Market Day as much as he does. "Anyone would think we were late for our own coronation, the way you carry on." 

Baahu is too relieved to see him to point out that neither of them have ever set foot in a royal court since infancy, much less have any real expectation of a coronation. "The market will be over and their tents folded by the time you finish primping," he retorts. "Come _on_." 

Bhalla scoffs but obeys, falling into place beside him as they walk down the well-worn path to the village. "If they knew who we are, they'd wait for us. We'd be the most honored guests they'd ever hosted." 

That seems unlikely. Mother claims if their identities as the hidden heirs of Mahishmati were known, the villagers couldn't help but betray them, but Baahu finds that just as improbable. He knows the villagers, considers them as close friends as such intermittent acquaintance can make them; he thinks, should the truth come out, that really it would not make much difference to how they think of him at all. He has to believe that. 

"One day," Bhalla says longingly, "we won't have to hide. You can have a thousand markets a day if you want them, then." 

Baahu bites back a laugh. A thousand markets, a thousand new people to meet and befriend--it seems exactly as unbelievable as the thought that Mother and Uncle might deem them ready to leave their refuge in the forest, as the prospect of the usurper Martand ever being defeated. But Bhalla's eyes are as earnest as Baahu has ever seen them, and Baahu doesn't have the heart to disappoint him. 

"One day," he agrees gently. 

**3.**

Baahubali has been accused, at times, of being careless: a serious charge he must deny. He prefers, instead, to think of it as having the utmost confidence not only in his own skills, but also in those of the people around him. At present, for example, he trusts in his own body's ability to send him diving through the air, straight and true. He trusts in Saket's last few vestiges of self-preservation to guarantee Saket will throw himself off the mountain in the manner most likely to allow for rescue. Most of all, he trusts in his brother's ability to keep the rope Baahubali throws up behind him steady and safe. 

So when he follows Saket off the cliffside, it is only after having given his circumstances the utmost care and knowing that they are still to his advantage. 

His heart soars as his body falls; his blood burns like fire. If he's honest with himself, it's this flirtation with danger, and the way it makes him feel a thousand times more alive than usual, that proves the one great temptation that he must deny himself. Survival, to ensure a lifetime spent serving Mahishmati, is that goal to which he owes his true fidelity. 

He forces his thoughts to more practical matters as his arm wraps around Saket's throat: Uncle will want to take him for questioning at once, but Baahubali thinks it might be more prudent to wait until they are safely back home. There can be no certainty where Saket's employers might be located, and if they should be in enough proximity to discover their spy has fallen into enemy hands, they might well decide taking his life is worth ensuring his silence. He won't mourn Saket's death any more than he would that of any other traitor, but should the information he possesses perish with him, it would be a great loss. He'll have to mention it to Uncle at once, convince him-- 

The rope goes slack. 

_Bhalla_ , he has time to mourn, and _Mahishmati_ , and then he thinks no more. 

**4.**

"Your Highness!" 

The exclamation, however reverent, echoes among Kuntala's white marble halls, and Baahubali winces. 

"Your....Highness," Devasena repeats from her throne. The set of her jaw bodes ill for anyone but most particularly for imposters who've thrown themselves on her mercy despite having no reason to do so. She does not look at him; she does not have to. Her fury is obvious. 

He is beginning to heartily regret the impulse that lured him here to indulge his curiosity as to the Crown Princess's latest marriage proposal. 

Jaya Varma clears his throat. "Perhaps," he says graciously, "the noble minister from Mahishmati might explain further. As might....Shivu?" 

Not for nothing is Amartya the ambassador Baahubali likes least of all those in Mother's service. He visibly brightens at the invitation, in contrast to Baahubali's wariness. Kuntalans, Baahubali has discovered, are not to be underestimated despite their generosity; if anything, the more genial they seem, the more dangerous they become when crossed. 

"Before you, behold Amarendra Baahubali, scion of Mahishmati and its next King. Your kingdom is honored by his presence as it has surely never been before." 

Devasena's face grows stormier by the word, but her brother interrupts once more. 

"And the proposal was sent for the Crown Prince Baahubali?" 

What a thought--but is it so much of a surprise that his mother would know him well enough to sense where his heart had been lost even before he could write to her about it? 

Amartya deflates. "I--er. No. The proposal was sent on behalf of the elder prince, Bhallaladeva." 

"Bhallaladeva?" Baahubali looks to Devasena. "I had not realized you were acquainted." 

"We are not," Devasena forces out between gritted teeth. "One week ago, I could have claimed with the utmost confidence that neither prince of Mahishmati had ever crossed my path." 

Which, is, admittedly, a relief: the thought of forcing an unwanted flirtation on a woman whose affections are given elsewhere is repugnant, and all the more the thought that Devasena might have been lost to him before he ever met her. His hands have curled into fists without his knowledge; slowly, they relax. 

Amartya clears his throat. "Bhallaladeva's fearsome reputation on the battlefield precedes him sufficiently that he need not appear in person," he pronounces and stops short. Any hopes Baahubali has that he might have realized how ridiculous he sounds fall short when Amartya adds, "As does that of the Crown Prince, of course. Even the mighty Kalakeyas fell before the combined might of the two brothers; why, then, the conquest of any country would be child's play!" 

The Kuntalan court greets this with appalled silence. Baahubali cannot entirely blame them. 

The Queen, always the peacemaker, finds words first. "I am afraid," she murmurs, "that I cannot quite understand the Crown Prince's purpose in coming here." 

"But of course his intention is to support his brother's proposal," says Amartya with hearty, artificial cheer, "and lend his strength to his mother's words. The world knows that anything she says is like to the commandments of the gods for him. Is that not so, Your Highness?" 

Amartya has his faults, but indulging in outright lies is not one of them: Mother would not trust him with her messages were that not so. So he must be correct in his claims that Mother seeks Devasena's hand for Bhalla and not himself. And it is true that all he has ever known in his life is to stand by the decrees of the mother who brought him into her family when no other would, no matter what it cost him. 

Though: Kuntala, too, took him in when they had no reason to do so, and he cannot deny that Mother's method of framing her proposal was mistaken. The court's indignation is obvious; and even gentle Jayavarma and his wife do not smile. They are none of them fools to miss the implied insults, and even less so the implied threats to their beautiful, bountiful kingdom. 

"Your Highness?" Amartya prompts. "Is that not why you came here? To seek the Crown Princess's hand for your brother?" 

Baahubali dares to glance at Devasena again: anger twists her mouth into a scowl, and humiliation burns bright on her cheeks, but in her eyes he sees only a deep hurt she's too proud to admit. It is enough to decide him. 

"It is not," he says, and seals his fate. 

**5.**

Years ago, Baahubali realized that the state visits of the Queen of Kuntala are sent by the gods, intended to cause a level of misery previously unimaginable. This does not stop him from looking forward to them on the rare occasions they occur. 

He cannot share these sentiments with his family: from their perspective, any lingering fondness for a woman who'd roundly refused his proposal is inexplicable, particularly almost a decade later. But a heart given to Devasena is a heart lost forever, and even now it soars when she, satisfied after securing a trade deal for Kuntala he'd already decided to surrender to her but allowed her the pleasure of bargaining for, gives him the chance to escort her back to her chambers afterwards. 

"You are fortunate to have your brother," she says, and Baahubali, unaccustomed to hear her speak of Bhalla without barely contained disdain, raises his eyebrows. 

Devasena allows herself an exasperated huff. "It must," she replies, "be quite a relief not to have to consider the question of an heir." 

Baahubali cannot help but agree, not in the least because the obvious solution to such a problem is permanently barred to him. It had been, in fact, the subject of one of the bitterest arguments he shared with Devasena, and one of the few he ever managed to win: but if she insisted that duty and his own aptitude for ruling forbade him from renouncing his throne to be with her, he could insist as strongly that to sentence his wife to live in the shadow of the woman he loved would be unforgivable. 

"Kuntala, at least, offers far more reasonable alternatives," Devasena continues, the general superiority of Kuntala to Mahishmati in all ways being one of her favorite topics. "We still recognize natural heirs of a ruling queen." 

Age and the cares of a kingdom have brought fine wrinkles to line her brilliant eyes, and still Devasena hasn't lost her taste for outrageous proclamations. 

He opens his mouth, meaning only to tease her back, but what emerges instead are the words that escape him at every visit: "Will you marry me?" 

She smiles, but more wearily than he recalls. More than ever, he has the sensation of worries weighing her down, secret concerns he can never share. 

Still: "Someday," she promises, as she always does. 

It will have to be enough. 

**6.**

"They are almost ready," Devasena tells him quietly. He will always be grateful, he thinks, that she allows him to pretend his grimace is only from pain. She crosses the small room of their cottage to peer critically at his back before pronouncing: "Your bandages need changing, though. They will have to wait until that is done." 

He is grateful for that, as well. 

He attempted, at first, to convince her that his wounds appeared worse than they truly were; but only so many arrows can score a back before those words ring hollow. She paled when she examined his wounds for the first time, just as he knew any empty reassurance on his part paled before her professional assessment. His only comfort is that Devasena has now relaxed her schedule of reapplying her stinging salves to a mere three times a day. 

Her fingers on his bare skin are firm and familiar. She is as efficient and merciless in this as in anything else, and she works in the silence he knows she prefers. It's not until she's wrapping new bandages around him that she murmurs, "You need not do this." She slips under his arm so as to meet his gaze squarely. "Not if you do not wish to." 

If he were not hers entirely already, he would be for that: for not repeating what Uncle's confession meant, for not reminding him that he had new responsibilities as a husband and father that outweighed his previous loyalties, for not pointing out that if he does not act now, he, she, and baby Mahendra will never be safe, no matter where or in what circumstances they live. 

He cups her cheek. "It is the only way," he admits to her, and even as he does, he knows this short respite she has made for him has come to an end. He can hear them gathering outside already, these brave men and women who have come to rout his brother and make Baahubali King. 

She walks at his side with Mahendra in her arms as he emerges, knowing without words that he needs the strength of her presence tonight more than ever before. Uncle is there, too, just outside; they share a quick nod hardly sufficient to acknowledge their shared guilt and shame. Mother will never forgive him. 

But: he remembers Devasena's white face when he'd returned with Uncle, wounded but warned of Mother's and Bhalla's intentions. He thinks of Mahendra, sleeping, innocent, and utterly helpless in this world except what protection his parents could provide him. 

_It is the only way_ , he tells himself, and moves forward to greet his army. 

**7.**

"He looks nothing like me!" Mahendra exclaims as he staggers from his wife's bedroom, and Baahubali smothers a smile. Most men would not make such a pronouncement with such delight, but Mahendra has always balked at sharing his features not only with his father, but also with a host of male ancestors before him. Baahubali would expect no less from his son. 

"May the gods be praised," drawls Sivvu from the divan. "I expect better for my nephew than to be burdened with your face." 

"He'll certainly suffer enough, dealing with a demoness of an aunt like you," Mahendra agrees, and ducks the cushion his sister throws in his direction. 

Vaguely Baahubali wonders if he should warn the children to behave themselves, but he supposes they can be allowed some indulgence after the long hours of waiting and worrying. It's not until Mahendra sends the cushion back with aim unsteady enough to horrify his mother, were she present, that Baahubali interjects: "Enough." 

Mahendra blinks. "You need to come," he says, almost accusingly, "Mother won't let me see him properly until you do. Nor will Avantika." 

And Baahubali is ashamed; Mahendra's memory might have failed him in the face of joy, but Baahubali had taken a Kuntalan bride himself and remembers, all too well, the frustration of their particular traditions.

When he enters, Baahubali looks to his daughter-in-law first, but Avantika, apart from her understandable exhaustion, appears otherwise unharmed. That ensured, he allows himself to approach Devasena and the midwife-- or more accurately, the precious bundle the midwife balances in her arms.

As is to be expected, Mahendra overstated matters somewhat: the baby, though he certainly has Avantika's decided chin and Devasena's nose, his eyes and mouth look very like Baahubali's memory of his son's at a similarly young age. Decades have passed since Sivvu was born, and all over again, Baahubali marvels at how very small infants are. A light dusting of dark hair covers the baby's head already; and he shifts slightly in the midwife's arms. Baahubali resists the urge to look for Uncle; this task still seems as though it should be Uncle's responsibility rather than his. His hair may be graying at the temples, and his joints might ache very slightly on rainy mornings, but nonetheless he's surely not old enough for this. 

But Devasena raises her eyebrows pointedly at him, as radiant still as the day he first saw her, and his abstraction must come to an end; Mahendra is waiting, not very patiently, behind him. Sivvu, leaning against the doorway, smiles, and Avantika sits up expectantly. Baahubali accepts the inevitable, and holds out his hands. 

"Give him here," he says, and welcomes his grandson into his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Śaktiviṣaya-(Sanskrit) the range of possibility.
> 
> Well! Hopefully that wasn't too terribly confusing. But, just in case, a quick rundown of the points of divergence for each alternate universe:  
> (1) Amarendra's biological mother survives and defends his sole right to the throne as his father's heir.  
> (2) Sivagami and Kattappa are unable to defend the throne from Martand; instead, they take the two rightful heirs and go into hiding with them.  
> (3) Kattappa doesn't arrive in time to cause Bhalla to think better of letting Amarendra fall to his death during BB:1.  
> (4) Instead of going up to the dam and therefore staying far away from the Mahishmati delegation, as in "Praveśaka," Amarendra wanders by the Kuntalan court at exactly the wrong moment.  
> (5) Devasena is Queen Regnant of Kuntala, unwilling and unable to abandon her country and move to Mahishmati to marry Amarendra.  
> (6) At the last minute, Kattappa finds he is unable to go through with his orders to kill Amarendra.  
> (7) The only non-specific universe! Any constellation of events you wish to imagine that leads to Amarendra both surviving and ruling as King. (Friends from Tumblr: this is, in my headcanon, the far future of the happiest universe!)
> 
> Also, although you probably might remember most of these: Uday is Amarendra's childhood friend, first mentioned in Chapter 1 of "Nidhana." Amartya is the terrible pun of a name given to the Mahishmati ambassador in "Abhinav," which I've kept here for consistency. Sivvu (whose full name is Sivagami) is Amarendra and Devasena's second child, a daughter.


End file.
